Real (Sequel to Valentine)
by DJ Dubois
Summary: Following their encounter at the Talon, Clark and Lana enjoy the sunset before chores.


Real

DJ Dubois

February 2018

Rating: T (Teen)

Notes: This drabble follows "Valentine". Smallville belongs to DC and the CW. Please send comments to dante0220  .

Valentine's Day represented a mixed lot for Lana. Gifts and attention had never been a problem for the _Time_ cover girl. Guys had gravitated to her. Still it wasn't for her. It was for her appearance and the arm ornament deal. Half-meant cards and cheap flowers followed greasy fast food. They got her what they wanted to get her. The grandiose gestures tried to make up for the neglect.

They failed by in large. They didn't get it….She craved simplicity. She wanted something _real_.

"Everything okay?"

She exhaled; the act calming her. A smile drifted across her face. She turned. "Yeah. Why?"

Clark furrowed his brow. He looked her over. Then he shrugged. "I wish I could do more for you."

"You are, Clark. You're here." Her eyes twinkled. She turned onto the dirt driveway. The slight jostling jarred them both. "Your Dad still needs to deal with that."

"He tries. Something always happens," he observed.

"Life happens while you're planning for something else. Right?" She rolled her eyes at that irony. At that point, she would've been listening to or soothing another of Whitney's brood fests. Fate, however, offered this respite. "It kind of gives it character."

"That's what Mom says." He grinned. "It's real."

 _Real._ She nodded almost dreamily. Her heart sang at his words. It floated with every jostle, streak of deepening light overhead and every note in his voice. The surroundings offered notes akin to Mozart. Their siren call beckoned. Instinct followed.

He leaned back against his seat. The backdrop assured him too. His eyes drifted toward her before he pulled them back.

"What?"

He sighed. "Nothing. It's just nice. I've never…well…."

"Never what? Clark, what's going on?"

"I've never had anyone here for Valentine's Day. Not a friend or well…." He blushed. "Bet you think that's dumb."

She giggled.

"What?" He stiffened.

"Clark, thanks. Want the truth?"

With effort, he nodded.

"That makes it special. First times are great." Her hand rubbed his. "It's okay, Clark." With that she stopped the blazer.

The canary colored farmhouse washed away concern. Perhaps the Luthor mansion drew those less inclined. For her though, that sanctuary offered peace. _Memoria_ recalled the scents of Martha's sugar cookies and cocoa. It sang of acceptance and warmth in the hardest of times. It reaffirmed her as individual and part of the _familia_.

And always there, her best friend stumbled but kept up. Even if he wouldn't speak them, his burdens weighed heavily upon his plaid-covered shoulders. Insecurity tripped him up. Determination pushed him forward.

…those things were the _Polarii_ in the dark night of her soul….

…no matter what they kept her grounded. They kept life real…..

"They're not back yet." He opened his door. Then he opened hers. "The Loft's waiting. Dad says this is the second best time of day."

Unlike other guys, his action seemed natural to her. It was genuine. Her eyes followed his upward. "Mind if we do the sunset first?"

Again his cheeks blushed. "Follow me."

His reaction only drew her in further. "So what tops this?"

"Sunrise. His eyes gleamed ever so gently into hers. His boots and her shoes creaked up the worn wooden steps.

Bright sunbeams washed across the expanse. _Faerie_ dust waltzed in them. A gentle breeze pushed the teens together.

"Sorry," they told each other. Then they relaxed; their eyes conveying unspoken understanding.

He ushered her toward the couch. "Sorry it's not fancier."

"It's great, Clark." She settled into the cushions. Her eyes sparkled at him. "Join me?"

He eased himself onto the couch. Despite how often he'd sat there, it felt like a hand edging into a new glove. He kept an inch or so between them.

She however leaned closer. Her right ear nestled against his left shoulder. Even as her eyes drank in the developing scene, his actions assured her.

He relaxed. For once, he didn't care if Jonathan or Nell had caught them together. All that mattered was her. He leaned closer.

Taking its cue, _Sol_ disappeared behind the western fields; its last salvos streaking the sky. Yellows, oranges and reds blossomed first. Their intensity rose. Their colors darkened as the balance shifted. Crimsons and purples followed as encores.

They savored the performance. Their eyes drank in every hue of the rainbow. Their ears took in the birds' calls. Their mutual presence pushed away worldly concerns. For several minutes, they lingered in that spot.

Cupid clearly blurred Friendship's bounds. His shafts primed to penetrate even Kryptonian dense skin or the head running it for that matter.

After the promised time, Day finally surrendered to the dark tide. _Sol_ eased to his rest. _Luna_ ascended. Polaris seemed brighter than usual….

…as if signaling two souls toward their place….

Her fingers eased onto his hand.

His grip cradled hers akin to fine China or a dove.

His free arm glided around her shoulders.

Her shoulder sunk ever closer into his.

Their hearts beat at the same pace.

"I wish we had a great dinner. This needs something," he lamented.

"We do." She smirked. "Chores and then dinner with your folks."

"Huh?"

"Clark, you're being such a _guy_. You have everything I want here. Scenic backdrop. Home with character. Stability. Some guy who's addicted to plaid and likes telescopes." Her eyes sparkled. "Any girl can have five star restaurants and castles. I have this." She rubbed his arm. "And I have you. Now come on. Chores are waiting." She almost seemed to prance toward the stairs.

He lingered taking in the ambiance. He relished the scene and the feeling. He felt part of something greater. He felt warm across his forehead for a split second. He grinned.

"Clark? Chores? Remember?" She grinned at him. "Come on."

"Chores. Oh yeah." He followed her back down toward the waiting livestock. Perhaps the burdens could overwhelm. But not on that day. Not with his brunette barista there.

On that day, it seemed real and that's what counted…..

THE END


End file.
